Something to Start

I really don't know.

We sat on the couch together, hands systematically reaching for the bag of chips on the coffee table. This show wasn't great, just another reality program but it had been voted the least boring show on at the moment. Until Shari got back with some DVD’s we were stuck with it. To be honest, I minded less than the other girls and the guys were more interested in either looking down our shirts, or their girlfriends lips.  Some perfect American suburban couple had been sent to Africa to live with a nomadic tribe there. In typical suburbs style, it was killing them the minute they got off the plane.

Every single whinge brought another outbreak of comments from everyone, all piled on top of each other. They would just love being in Africa, Alicia went so far as to say - when the TV couple were forced to cover their skin in ochre and wear tribal uniforms " that she wouldn't even hesitate to jump into African culture.

I didn't think they understood. In retrospect, I don’t think any of us did. We were all quite sure we knew better than them, even though they were the ones living it. We sat there; surrounded by our appliances and our junk food, completely positive we would have risen above.  I guess you know better, I guess we should have.

The TV fought a fit of static, bringing a collective groan from the group before easing back into the show in time for the couples to complain about the dust. The dust, the girl said, had gotten everywhere and into everything. She burst into tears, igniting a new round of mockery. Cass jumped off the couch, ignoring the grunts of the people she elbowed in the manoeuvre. Kneeling at the coffee table facing us, she burst into fake sobs; begging relief from the filth at increasing levels of absurdity. I’d traveled before though, I knew about dust.

We’d been going through the desert in 2003; the air conditioning was still broken, almost six months after it died. We were surviving on bags of ice, eating those eclipse mints so the air itself would at least seem cooler when we breathed. Daddy had decided to take a side road and it had been full of dust, it had billowed through the open windows, forcing us to wind up all the windows and marinate in our own heat. We’d been more than ready to pull over that night. Completely relieved that we could finally have a break, we’d gotten out of the car, every step bringing up clouds of red dust around our ankles. We’d stepped into the caravan to find it had seeped through and covered everything. The bowels were coated in the red dust, the cups full; it had even seeped into our water system, the tap releasing a charcoal red. Our clothes were covered, and our beds were like sleeping in sandpaper that night.

So I knew about dust, I had a tiny bit more empathy for these people, but crying on the first night. My baby sister had been in that caravan and she hadn't cried, not for the whole week we traveled through living on water bottles. I guess it doesn't make much sense that I’d start here, in that s****y apartment lounge room or even write like this. That stupid pre-drinks party, I hadn't even wanted to go. I’d hated the mere thought of it, dreaded the people. If I hadn't gone, things might have ended differently. I guess hindsight’s 20/20… I didn't exactly go through live worrying about what would happen next. I was 17; I didn't think life was that hard. I certainly didn't think life would be like this.

There we were, Ed, Cass, Alicia, Jake, Shari and I. We didn't know what was about to happen, our biggest worry was catching the right train the next day. It’s strange, but look where I am, I think I have the right to tell my story however the hell I want to, without getting distracted by if it’s proper. I had class before the party, we’d learned about self distancing, about how people remove themselves from a stressful situation, I don’t know if I’m doing that, and to be honest I don’t freaking care anymore. Writing’s how I used to stay calm, it can’t hurt now.

Ha! I even used to think I was good at it. I had a blog, a website; I really thought I was the s**t. Dreamed about the day I’d get published. I dreamed about the day I’d get a singing contract, but the writing dream seemed just a tiny bit more legitimate. Of course, and I hate to jinx myself, but there’s a chance, no matter how small it is, that someone will read this and understand. They say you can’t atone through telling your story alone, but it’s about my only path left.

 

~

 

He looked up, glancing at the room. “She had no idea her plan had worked. She didn't know they…” he trailed off under the glare of the commanding officer. “Yes sir. Just the facts sir.” He leaned across to his laptop and inserted a marker onto the map on his screen, turning to watch it pop up on the big screen. It was all too public in his opinion, to read her private thoughts like that.

“They started here, in the University Residence E23, 16^th September 2013. The day before the attack. We recovered some footage taken that night around 6pm.” He pulled up another file; the photo’s appearing in a slideshow across the big screen. Shots of the group, smiling and laughing like it was any other night, which to them it was. The biggest thing they had coming up was a quick movie, some shots, and then a serious day of shopping and clubbing.

The commanding Officer nodded his head in approval;

“Then what?” 

Author's Note

I really don't know what this is, or what i'm doing with it. Advice, comments?

Reviews

[G!o]

"Then what?" Oh come on...one of them pieces you start then you leave the reader pending exactly the minute i am getting consumed by the story. You really need to finish what you started...i got my eyebrow raised on this one.

[Kaya]

I will write more... Im almost sure i will.... As soon a i work out whats next myswlf...

[G!o]

Yeah you better

[Jordan's Back]

i don't usually comment on prose, because its not my Genre, but I like the story, Its a nice peace.

[Shred]

Craig2591 is right, it isn't as disorienting as you may think. I dig it ms Kaya. I'm with the commanding officer, "then what?"

[Craig2591]

Well, the last couple of paragraphs threw me, that's for sure. But they also piqued my interest. I want to know what's going on. It wasn't too disorienting, if that's what you're worried about.

I vote 'continue'!